“How much can a young boy eat?”
She laughed and sipped her tea. “Surely you know, having been a young boy once yourself.”
“I don’t remember much. Or I choose not to remember much. Either way, I’ve no clue what sort of sustenance that sort of creature needs.”
“Have you heard from Beggsly?”
He shook his head. “I’ll contact him shortly. Have you thought on my list?”
There it was. And now came the time she had to rip her heart out. Better now than later, when she had to watch him court another woman.
She placed her teacup on the saucer and set them both on the small table between her and Lord Andrew. Then she straightened and held his gaze. “I will not be looking at your list. Nor will I advise you on a bride to choose.”
He opened his mouth to speak.
“And,” she said, marching forward, allowing no interruption, “I will be taking a holiday.”
“A holiday? What do you mean?”
“I will be returning home for a time.”
“Home? Manchester?”
“Home is Scotland, Lord Andrew. Hawkscraig Castle.”
He shook his head as if clearing it from fog. “Where? I’ve never heard you speak of it before.”
“You’ve never asked about my personal life.”
“I… didn’t think you had one. You appeared out of nowhere and just… moved in.”
She chuckled, the memory of the day they’d met relaxed her a bit. She’d been waiting to interview as a hopeful governess, and she’d stormed in to save him instead. He’d offered her more payment to act as the head of the agency and his secretary than a governess position would pay. Not that she’d needed the money.
She’d needed the companionship, though, friends and family. She’d missed the sound of welcoming voices, missed the hush of whisper sharing and the low giggle of well-meant teases among friends. Better to work than lose your soul bit by lonely bit.
He’d certainly given her everything she’d wanted—constant companionship, challenges to occupy her mind, the opportunityto meet new people and make new friends, to impact the lives of others. She was no longer rusting.
But it was time to return.
Because sometimes solitude proved a mercy for a breaking heart. Perhaps she could return to Manchester after he’d married. Perhaps that would be time enough to heal.
“You’re coming back, yes?” He stood and paced across the room.
She stood, too, but remained by the fire. “In time. Lord Andrew, in all my five years of working for you, I’ve never once taken a break. Every day at your side, doing your bidding.”
“Have I been too harsh a taskmaster? We just attended a wedding.” He stopped pacing and stared at her with wide eyes and arms that didn’t seem to know quite what to do.
“You rushed us away from the wedding and made me work at a pub.”
He scratched his fingers through his hair and hung his head. Then he snapped up straight and threw his shoulders back. “We are a successful team, you and me. I will not let you abandon the agency in its time of great need.”
“I am not abandoning it. I am taking a brief holiday before helping you set up the new London location. I’ll return sharper and more energized than ever. I promise. But, Lord Andrew, I am not asking your permission. I am telling you. I leave for Hawkscraig the day after we return to Manchester.”
“So soon?” he barked. He blinked once, inhaled efficiently if a bit more heavily than usual. “Very well. Take your holiday, Mrs. Dart. I’ll expect your return a week after your departure.”
“A week?” She laughed. “Travel will take two to three days at least, particularly if the weather is bad, as it is bound to be the farther north I go. I thought, perhaps, two months, my lord.”
“Two mo— Twomonths?” he sputtered. “No. Absolutely not. A fortnight.”
